Today is the Day I Die

Today is the day. Today is the day I die. They see it as justice, I see it as murder. I didn't commit the crime I'm here for, I didn't murder them! I didn't murder my entire family except my brother, he did.

Yes, I was the one with the violent tendencies, the one with the temper, but I never acted on them. Usually, I'd just punch my pillow. I am not a murderer. He is.

My brother, the quiet one, the angel, the forensic scientist. He knows how to make the perfect crime, he knows what evidence is, and he knows how to get rid of it. I never started the fights when we were kids, it was always him, and somehow, he always framed me.

Like he did a few years ago. He framed me again, but this time, for the murder of my wife, my son, and my two daughters. He raped my lovely, innocent daughters, with so much life ahead of them, and then disposed of them, then he moved onto my wife. My beautiful wife, Alison, beautiful Alison, with her chocolate brown hair always fraying from her messy bun, loosing pencils behind her ears. Such was the life of a budding poet. Her beautiful blue eyes always clouded, gazing into another world of beauty of which no one but her could see.

And he took her away from her beautiful world! He took her away from me. He planted evidence, planted things I couldn't argue with except for insisting that I didn't do it.

Why did he do it? A question I've pondered alone in my jail cell, for I was considered too dangerous to be put with other prisoners because of the way I supposedly murdered my son. With my finger nails. I supposed he did it because he was jealous. When we weren't fighting as children, he always told me how he wanted the pretty wife and wonderful children and a successful job. He had the job down, but his wife died giving birth to his son, who overdosed on heroin three years before I was sent to prison. I suppose he wanted me to feel his pain ten-fold, and believe me, I have. Every day I wake up and before my senses come to me, I expect to feel my wife's slight frame tucked in my arms, her head laying on my upper arm and my hand laying on her stomach, rising and falling with her breath. But instead I feel the hard prison beds and only a hole in my heart where she once was.

A sob rips through my chest as I remember when she was pregnant with my son. I awoke in that exact position, and the skin under my hand wriggled. That was the first time he moved and it brought tears to my eyes.

My forehead rests on the cold, grey wall of my cell, my left hand pressed flat against it, my breathing heavy, trying to stop the sobs from coming, my eyes shut tight, leaking tears. Behind my eyelids my wife smiles at me, my children around her. That is the one comfort to dying, I'll be with them. No more pain.

I got my last meal about an hour ago, my wife's recipe for baby back ribs and rice pilaf. But my stomach churns in anxiety.

By sending me here, he murdered me as well, knowing I'd be sentenced to death. I only hope his fate comes soon.

My ten and eight year old daughters didn't deserve what happened to them in their last moments. If anything, the last thing should have been something of love. But of course not, my brother only loves himself.

He poured their blood on me while I slept so it looked like I had done it, moved their bodies closer to me, put the gun that he used to kill my wife in my hands, smashed our security cameras which I had had installed because of a kidnapping in town a few years back, ripped out my finger nails and used them to kill Jared.

Apparently I sleep through everything.

I hear my cell door open. I continue to face the wall as they cuff me and I am led down the hall. The white walls and white tiled floors and fluorescent lights too pristine for this place of horrors. For this place of death.

I remember the day I met Alison. I was in the coffee shop, it was winter. She was sitting alone in a booth, her hair wisping out of her hat, that far away look in her eyes I would learn to love so much. And suddenly she started furiously scribbling on a napkin. I sat down across from her once she was done and asked her what she wrote. She blushed and wouldn't tell me. So instead I asked her for her to write down her number and show me that. She blushed further but complied and the next day I called.

That was our first date, and the day I fell in love.

I am jarred from the memory as I am sat down in a chair. Seconds feel like hours and my palms sweat. My armpits prick and itch. I watch the needle be readied.

Time seems to slow as the tip of the needle meets my skin. I close my eyes, conjure a picture of my wife, and...

The End.

Author's Note

reviews please

Reviews

[Abbie]

hmmm, seems like a different form of writing that I don't really see you use a lot. I do like it though. very good in fact! :D how you can just come up with an entire story written perfectly is beyond me! way better than i could do! :) and your method of killing the son. fingernails... very...interesting way to kill someone.... I kind of want to know how you thought of that. and this entire story, it's really good! Keep writing! :D

[Coyote Poetry]

A very powerful story. The story brought me in and held my attention to the last words. The sadness, mystery and description gave life to the main characters. No weakness in the excellent story.
Coyote

[MandaBear]

Wow intense. Very good. I really felt the pain that guy felt. Great job

[Wild Willow Blue]

Intense. I was hoping for a twist at the end, something involving the brother maybe, or his wife. Something like that. But I thought the imagery was very real, and the wording is great.

[Owlgirl]

Amazing, I love how you wrote this adn the story line. Excellent!

[Amanda]

i like the ending. It kind of reminds of the story we read about the guy who was hanged

[Lydia]

Beautifully written. I love this!

[allie_arrowz]

this is awesome!!!

[shawlyn]

Hi Sophie.
A story with an unhappy ending. As I read through, I found your use of description, easily brought the scenes together in my mind. The switching from memory to present is handled nicely. I was still hoping for a happy ending where the brother would be found out, but I realise this was the best way to end it. Not much to criticise. Use of tense needs to be checked in some areas, but overall, very well written.
Regards
Shawlyn

[Odayin]

Reay straight forward, but yet there was more to be seen. Amish like a cave hidden behind a waterfall, with the water masking the cave's appearance and true identity. So in other words, there is more to this than normally seen. I like the only bright side as that is an excellent bright side, being together again fixes all wounds. Very creative, the way you explained everything was really good and you had had practically a perfect representation of the emotions that would be felt.
Great idea, nicely written

[Krystyna Herst]

Wow, this is really good :) I like how you ended it on a cliffhanger. You should write more like this.